Entry #7: Cruisenight


The Flash Fiction contest for August ends Friday. Voting begins Saturday. Let us know which one is your favorite.

Cruisenight! It’s here again. I love it. Oh, I’m sorry, I’m Petit Morceau de Peluches. Zat is ze French for a small bit of fluff. At least I was when Jackie and Kent got me. Not that they are, or I am, French but she liked how it rolled off her tongue. Most of the time they call me Petit. I still am that. I’m a Munchkin, a cat with very short legs. Don’t worry, I can jump just as high as a cat with long legs. Enough about me. Let’s get back to Cruisenight!

Every month in the warm weather, but sometimes it’s cold, we get to take one of Kent’s cars to show off at some cool place. Kent loves cars, especially old hot rods. He has several and calls them his collectibles. Jackie isn’t as fond of them as he is. The one I love best is a black one, with a top that folds down. It’s really old and Kent has fixed it up with lobster red leather. He shines it up until it sparkles.

Why do I love Cruisenight? Because I get to go along. It’s so much fun watching the people look at the cars. I sit on the dashboard, which is long and wide. The top is down and the windows are up so people can’t touch me. I’m not fond of strangers touching me. They get a taste of my claws if they try.

Usually, I become the star attraction. People seem fascinated by me. Especially the way I stand on my hind legs like a prairie dog. Sometimes more than the cars. Each car is shiny and bright. Folks study each detail as if there were ancient runes covering them. There aren’t runes of course but lots of cars have fancy paint and chrome all over the place.

Personally, I like the way Kent fixes up his cars. Elegant and beautiful, just like me. Not fancied up with flames and swirls. I got too close to a candle one time. I can do without flames, thank you.

I don’t only stay in the car at Cruisenights. I get to see other cars too. None, in my opinion, are as fine as Kent’s. I spend a lot of time with him while he works on his cars. He brings them in so dirty and ragged that I don’t want to touch them. Kent has a nice bed for me on his workbench. As he is working on the piece of junk I can be with him. I know he enjoys having me around. He always comments when I finally approve of his choice and the work he’s done. I let him know by inspecting every inch as soon as it’s restored enough for my tender toes to walk on. The words Kent says I won’t repeat here, but I know he’s delighted at my approval.

Back to Cruisenight. Jackie carries me when we go to look at the other cars. I suffer the indignity of a leash only because I like seeing how much better my cars are than the others. The only down side of the evening is the dogs. Why do people ruin every event by bringing dogs? They’re noisy, slobbery, jumping around, tangling their leashes. I have no idea what the appeal of a dog is.

So tonight we get to show off Kent’s car. I’ll lie on the dashboard appearing to sleep but in reality watching the people as they pass, knowing they are really admiring me.

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